Doughnuts
by thesociallyawkwardtwins
Summary: ... or, rather, How Sally Came to Wonder What Lestrade's Division Actually Is. Just a little story about doughnuts that includes elements of the theater of the absurd. Occurs during the Reichenbach Fall.


_A/N: For English class I had to write something using the elements of Theatre of the Absurd about a supporting character from a book or TV series. Naturally I picked Sally and Lestrade from Sherlock. I'm not really sure what the point of this little story is, but I guess that's the idea of Absurdist theater, so... _

_Also, I made up some police officers because Sally needed more people to interact with, so just roll with it. Enjoy ;)_

* * *

**Doughnuts**

Sergeant Sally Donovan stalked through the doorway into the New Scotland Yard police station and was instantly barraged with the cacophony of phones ringing, people shouting, and keyboards clacking. Such was a normal day for Sally, despite the fact that it was barely nine in the morning. Her head throbbed against the onrush of sounds forcing their way into her ears, but she brushed it all away and focused only on the clicking of her heels against the floor.

"Donovan!"

"Sir?"

Sally stopped short, nearly overshooting the doorway from which the shout came. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, her superior, slid into the doorway of his office on a rolling chair and dug his heels into the ground to stop his motion. Pulling himself through the doorway with one hand, he popped the remnants of an unidentifiable pastry into his mouth. He waved her over closer, obviously calling her to discuss something important.

However, the fact that Lestrade now had a smudge of purplish icing across his lips and several sprinkles stuck around his mouth distracted Sally from the task at hand. She gave him a funny look and put her hands on her hips.

"Was that a doughnut?" she blurted, unable to control herself. It was a pretty good guess as to what pastry Lestrade was just eating, considering he eats doughnuts when he's alone quite often. She's probably not supposed to know that since he only eats the doughnuts when he's alone in his office and he thinks no one is watching, but it's out in the open now, apparently.

"Was _what_ a doughnut?" Lestrade asked evasively.

"What you just ate," Sally said harshly, pointing at the crumbs that had fallen on his lap.

"I didn't eat anything," he replied easily, running his hands down his legs in a way that brushed the crumbs to the floor.

Sally, who was getting visibly frustrated and upset, opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say at first. She gestured wildly around herself and said, "I just watched you eat something!"

"Then, Donovan, you must be seeing things," Lestrade replied evenly.

"I absolutely am _not _seeing things!" Sally practically shouted. This was testing her patience. All she wanted to know initially was if the stupid pastry was a doughnut. That was all.

"But I haven't eaten anything, so how can you possibly have seen me eat something?" Lestrade retaliated.

Sally's frustration boiled over. "Are you kidding me? You've got icing all over your face! How do you explain that one, sir?"

Lestrade gave a look like a child who'd been caught drawing all over the walls of his house in permanent marker and very slowly ran the back of his hand over his mouth. Sure enough, when he drew it away, there was a smear of purple across his knuckles. "Well, Donovan," Lestrade said slowly, "this is rather odd, isn't it?"

"_Odd_, sir?" Sally inquired sharply. That wasn't exactly the response she was expecting.

"How on earth did purple icing get on my face if I haven't eaten anything?" Lestrade said in a completely normal voice.

At that point, Sally was pretty much beyond words with frustration, but she could tell that anything else she said would further push this conversation around in circles. If Lestrade wasn't going to acknowledge that he'd just eaten a doughnut, then there was no point in arguing it further.

"Sir," Sally said in a stiff, well-measured voice. "Why did you call me over here in the first place?"

"Oh right," Lestrade said, as though he'd forgotten. He wheeled himself backwards into his office, grabbed a stack of manila folders off his desk, and wheeled back over to Sally. "I'd like you review these cases that Sherlock solved and then hand them off the Constable Dimmock to do a final write up. You'll also need to get the photographs of the evidence from the forensics team."

Sally bristled at the mention of Sherlock Holmes's name and made no move to hide her dislike. That _freak_ was always getting in on these cases that he shouldn't have access to. Sally didn't understand why Lestrade always let Sherlock help on these cases that the Yard could easily solve by themselves. Nevertheless, Lestrade was her superior, and she had no right to undermine his power.

"Of course, sir," Sally replied in a tight voice. She took all the manila files and marched off to her desk, frustrated by Lestrade's doughnut habit and his trust of Sherlock Holmes.

/

Two hours later, the phone on Sally's desk rank, startling her out of her focus on reading through the file on the missing painting of the Reichenbach Falls. She snatched the phone up and pressed it to her ear. "Sergeant Donovan," she said in a clipped tone.

"This is Baker from the forensics team," the person on the other end said. "Shall I send up the pictures of the evidence from the recent cases?"

"That would be great, thank you," Sally replied.

"The pictures are on their way," Baker replied and hung up the phone almost immediately.

Sally went back to reading through the case files, and half an hour passed in almost no time. She rechecked the time, just to make sure, and was strangely confused that the photos from forensics still hadn't arrived. She was about to go downstairs to get them herself when her phone rang again.

"Sergeant Donovan," she said, picking up the phone.

"This is Baker from the forensics team. Shall I send up the pictures of the evidence from the recent cases?" the same voice asked.

"You already asked me thirty minutes ago, and you said they were on their way up!" Sally barked harshly.

"Did I really?" Baker asked, sounding genuinely confused. "Well, they're definitely on their way now."

"Good," Sally snapped. She hung up the phone before Baker could get out another word, and she started to stew in her intense frustration.

After another thirty minutes passed, Sally Donovan was practically irate. She was about ready to flip her desk when she got the third call.

"Sergeant Donovan," she growled.

"This is Baker from—"

She cut him off before he could get any more out. "Just send the pictures up immediately! And don't ask again!"

Slamming the phone down, she dearly hoped that she'd actually get the pictures this time, because, if she didn't, Baker and the entire forensics unit were going an earful from Sally Donovan. She was barely even able to calm herself down enough to finish reading the final case file.

It only took her twenty minutes to finish, and the pictures still hadn't arrived.

Sally had happened on the point of anger where it was difficult to even form words, but when the phone started ringing for the fourth time, she thought of a couple of swear words that might adequately express her anger.

She snatched up the phone and didn't even bother to state her name or let Baker talk. "JUST SEND THE PICTURES UP IMMEDIATELY!"

There was silence on the other end for a second. "Sergeant Donovan…" the voice said somewhat tentatively. "This is Detective Inspector Hughes from the Burglary Unit."

Sally was flooded was embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Detective Inspector," she said quickly, trying to cover up her explosion. "I've been trying to get pictures from the forensics team, and they've called me three times to ask—"

"That's unimportant at the current time," Hughes said harshly to cut her off. "We just got a call from the security for the Crown Jewels, the Bank of England, and Pentonville Prison. There was a security breech in all three places, and the criminal in charge was caught trying to steal the Crown Jewels."

The immediate adrenaline rush caused by the panic wiped away all of Sally's embarrassment. The phone almost slipped from her grasp.

"Notify Detective Inspector Lestrade and meet us at Pentonville Prison as soon as possible," Hughes said in a clipped tone.

"Right away, sir," Sally said.

She immediately hung up the phone and dashed out of her office. Once again, she heard the cacophonous melody of ringing phones, chatting officers, and tapping keyboards, but all she could focus on was the pounding of her heart. She jogged to Lestrade's office and threw the door open.

"There's been a break in," she said sharply as she stuck her head through the doorway.

"Not our division," Lestrade replied without a single thought.

Sally took in the scene inside Lestrade's office with a strange mix of confusion and annoyance. Outside New Scotland Yard police station, there was probably genuine mass panic over this insane break in, but inside this office, Lestrade was sitting with his feet propped up, eating yet another doughnut and drinking a coffee.

For a flicker of a second, Sally thought about commenting on that, but then she remembered the conversation from earlier and thought better of it. "You'll want in on this one," she said.

Without another word, she ducked out of his office and marched down the hall. After a moment or two, she heard Lestrade's footsteps following her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he was still finishing off that doughnut. Sally Donovan shook her head and thought to herself, "Lestrade's division isn't really the Homicide Unit of New Scotland Yard. It's _doughnuts."_


End file.
